


Methos Chronicles 12

by Helis_von_Askir



Series: Methos Chronicles [12]
Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: Such a mundane start to such a nightmare.
Series: Methos Chronicles [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350058
Kudos: 11





	Methos Chronicles 12

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't owe anything. But takes some inspiration from the audiobooks.

The airport was pretty much deserted at this time of night. In fact aside from Methos, Joe and a couple of cleaning crews there wasn’t anyone around in the arrival area. They were waiting for MacLeod and Amanda’s flight. The immortal thief had finally managed to drag the Scott off to Maui for a couple of months and now they were on their way back. Mac had called Joe earlier in the day and told him that they would skip Paris and straight to Rome since both Joe and Methos were now living there and Amanda hadn’t been there in several decades.

With a sigh, Joe sat down next to Methos who was reading an old book. Joe’s finger were itching to take the damn thing and see what it was about, not one of his own journals but some first edition of something. But Methos hadn’t offered and he was kind of funny when it came to his books.

“You know, I just realized that I never asked.” Joe said. His voice loud in the otherwise silent hall.

“Never asked what?” Methos wanted to know without looking up from his book.

“How it all started. The Horsemen, I mean. And why.” Joe elaborated, giving the old Immortal a sideway glance.

At that Methos did look up mildly curious.” Then why the sudden interest now?”

Joe shrugged. “Just curious.”

A little smile was starting to play around Methos’ mouth. “Really? Zoll didn’t put you up to this, by any chance?”

“No,” Joe replied but he didn’t sound very convincing. Zoll had to have told him that it was important that they learn these things and since he was such a good buddy of Methos, Joe should do the asking. Methos may have read the e-mail Zoll had written to him a couple of days ago.

“You really need to learn to lie better, Joseph.” Methos chided gently and went back to his book.

After they had welcomed MacLeod and Amanda and dropped them off at their hotel, Methos returned to his own house and finally called it a night. Well, it was nearly morning by then, but Methos didn’t care, he took a shower and then buried himself in his bed but sleep wouldn’t come.

Damn Joe and his questions. And damn Zoll for putting him up to it. They wanted to know how the Horsemen were born? It was such a ridiculously mundane story that they wouldn’t believe it even if he told them.

Middle East, ca. 1.700 BC

After escaping the angry and frightened Shasu tribesmen, Methos got out of his little boat and set out east on foot. He was not exactly sure where he was but it had to be somewhere outside the tribe’s area of influence. He would head to Ur or Uruk, somewhere far away from Moab until they had forgotten him. Maybe even farther east. There were vast lands beyond the land of the two rivers which he had so far barely travelled.

Methos thought back to why he was here, alone, with only his blade as company. Emeet had been smart, blaming the death of his father on his friend and lover, a stranger despite all the time he had lived among them. Sanut had kept Emeet from leading the tribe for many cycles. That must have chaffed the young mortal immensely. But that he would kill his own father over it. Sanut would not have lived many cycles longer anyway, he had already seen thirty-eight summers. But the impatience of youth had left Methos with another loved one to mourn sooner than he should have to.

It did not matter how far he traveled. The pain, the anger, the resentment inside him did not lessen but festered until it threatened to overwhelm him. Oh, the things he dreamed of doing to that young tribesman should he get his hands on him, but of course he wouldn’t. Emeet was surrounded by guards day and niht. Getting some sort of revenge was a dream, nothing more.

Methos was nearing a sizeable settlement near Babylon, those were becoming rather popular he noticed, when he felt the presence of another of his kind. Looking around he spotted a man coming his way. He did not look pleased. Yes, well, neither was Methos.

“I’m Kronos, and that town is my prize.” The stranger announced brandishing a bronze sword.

Methos shrugged. “Fine by me, I will find somewhere else to stay the night.” He made sure his own blade was in easy reach as he passed Kronos by.

“You don’t want it?” The other man asked confused.

“What for?” Methos wanted to know. Was that all this Immortal did? Raiding villages and, what had he called it, towns? Not much of a challenge in that. These places were hardly ever properly defended.

“Plunder, of course. And a slave here and there.” Kronos told him with a grin. “Me and my men live well that way.”

“Do you now? Well, than I wish you good luck.” Methos continued walking but Kronos caught up with him. Methos was not surprised, young Immortals tended to be a lot more carefree than older ones. He would learn or he would lose his head soon enough.

“Why don’t you come with us? We could always use another strong mar and you look like you know how to use that sword of yours.” Kronos suggested.

Methos stopped to think about it. He did not have anywhere particular he needed to be. And some companionship would be nice, even if it was only for a short while. And he could need to get all that pent up frustration out. And he needed the practice. As a healer he did not have much opportunity to fight with the sword. And oh, he wanted to fight, he wanted to let all that rage bottled up inside him out.

“But only for this raid.” Methos agreed.

Kronos laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “A careful man, I like that. You can stay as long as you like. By the way, what’s your name, friend?”

For some reason he didn’t give Kronos his real name, but one of the many had worn over the centuries.” Methos, my name is Methos”

The raid was pathetically easy. What else was there to expect from a place that did not contain one single sword? The plunder was even less impressive than the defense. Some baubles, a bit of copper, the best things were the goats and a donkey. If this was the best Kronos could do, Methos did not think he would get rich quickly.

“That was fun, was it not, Methos?” Kronos asked laughing.

“You lost ten men.” Methos pointed out.

Kronos shrugged unconcerned. “Men are cheap.”

“That is no reason to waste them if you don’t have to.” Methos said. Kronos and his men had no discipline, they went into battle with abandon, no regard for their own lives. For an Immortal that was not too dangerous. Most people did not have weapons that could separate a head from the body. But still, it was foolish, and Methos told Kronos so.

“Then what would you have us do differently?” Kronos wanted to know.

“Your men must learn to work together, to watch each other’s back. Then you can take on bigger targets than these little villages. And you must become quieter so your enemies will not know you are upon them until it is far too late.” Methos explained.

Kronos’ face turned thoughtful. “You may have a point there. Will you stay and teach us? You will get a share of the plunder, of course.”

Methos did not have to think long, he liked making plans, always had, to think things through, and it was nice to have company of his own kind, who understood what it was like. And Kronos appeared to be sincere in his desire to learn.

“I would be happy to, Kronos.” He said and lifted his wine mug to be filled again. Yes, this could be what he had been looking for. Camaraderie without having to explain anything.

They had been quite successful for several summers when they came across a lone Immortal wandering along the river. He was a big brute of a man and Kronos wanted to take his head on sight. Methos had other ideas though.

“Why not take him into our group?” Methos asked.

“Why not take his head and be done with it? Look at him, he’s new and won’t put up much of a fight.” Kronos replied.

“Because your mortals are dying like flies. Would it not be better to have more of our kind? Then we wouldn’t have to rain new ones every few summers.” Methos explained. And since that was something Kronos had been complaining about in the past he just shrugged.

“He’s yours then, brother, to train and to look after, and to end if it doesn’t work out.” Kronos decided.

The man’s name was Silas. He was a rather slow fellow when it came to thinking but with his axe he could be lightning fast. All one had to do was point him in the right direction.

He did not have much regard for other people, except pretty girls, but he was the gentlest person Methos had ever seen when it came to animals. Their horses had never been in better shape once he took over their care.

“Where will we go next, brother?” Silas asked a few months after he had joined them.

“Getting bored already, Silas?” Kronos wanted to know. It had taken some time but he finally warmed up to Silas, Methos was glad to see. He liked Silas a lot. He was not the smartest and didn’t understand most of what Methos talked about, but he still listened to what he had to say.

“Aren’t you? For nearly a moon we have not raided. There must be tribes near us that are worthy of our time.” Silas stated with a big grin. He always tried to sound as smart as Methos, copying his brother’s speech whenever he could. Though the really big words usually tripped him up.

“There are, brother. Rich tribes, which means guards, trained guards. We need to strike at the best moment.” Methos explained.

“And when will that be?” Silas wanted to know.

“Three days from now, when they celebrated the starting of the new cycle. Drunk men don’t fight very well.” Methos told him with a big grin.

It was a massacre. The members of the tribe could not organize a defense against the might of the three Immortals, and the handful of mortal warriors they still kept around. They killed everyone they found, not taking any slaves, they had enough back in their camp for the moment. When everyone in the camp was dead and they had taken what they wanted, Kronos but the tents to the torch. Methos had tried to explain to him that letting them stand would mean others passing by would see and be afraid of them, spread stories, having them shaking when they did show up to raid them too. But Kronos liked destruction too much to listen.

Ah well, there were many other villages, tribes and towns so sack. Let him burn a few if it meant so much to him.

It was a decade or so later that they encountered yet another lone Immortal. He was in the middle of a battle against half a dozen soldiers from some city state or other. Silas wanted to join him immediately in the fun, but Methos and Kronos held him back. The other Immortal was doing fine on his own and who knew how he would react to interference?

Besides, the dark-haired man looked familiar to Methos, but he couldn’t place him immediately. When the mortals were dead the Immortal stood there panting, glaring in their direction.

“Well me, friend. That was quite impressive.” Kronos called to him. “My name is Kronos, this are Methos and Silas. What are you called?”

“Caspian.” The lone Immortal shouted to the skies.

Methos gave a start. Caspian, yes, now he remembered. He had not though the other Immortal still alive after what had happened, after all this time.

“What is it, brother?” Silas asked concerned. “Do you know him?”

Methos nodded slowly. “I met him once, a long time ago.”

Caspian had heard them and came closer to their horses, his sword still drawn and ready to use. “You…you, I remember you. That battle…once. The battle, is it over? Did we win?”

“Yes, Caspian, that battle is over. And we won, thanks to you.” Methos told him slowly, praying that he wouldn’t babble his real name out. He loved the other two but he didn’t want them to know that name. It belonged into another time. And it appeared that Caspian’s mind was as damaged as they had assumed it would be back then, maybe even more. But he was still alive, that alone spoke of his abilities in battle.

“Good, that’s good.” Caspian muttered and seemed lost for a moment. “Where was I going? I don’t seem to remember.”

“Why don’t you come with us, friend?” Kronos suggested. “We could use a man like you.”

Caspian thought this over for a while before nodding. “Yes, you can help me carry.” He said and went back to the men he had just killed and started to gather their heads.

The other three exchanged glances. “What are you going to do with the heads?” Methos wanted to know.

Caspian grinned at them. “Eat the brains, of course, they’ll make me smarter.”

Caspian was a just plain cruel. There was no plan or goal to him aside from causing pain. A great addition to their little group if all they wanted was death and destruction. But when they wanted to gather slaves, or riches, it could be difficult to keep him from going too far.

And his habit of eating peoples’ brains and occasionally other body parts did nothing to endear him to Methos or Silas. Kronos didn’t care, he was just happy that he had found another weapon to use to strike fear into others.

Methos more than once entertained the idea of taking Caspian’s head to end his sufferings. But then he would be the one with Khaniel’s Quickening inside him and he was no sure if he would not end up like Caspian himself or worse.

He did not remember if Caspian had had these habits before taking Khaniel’s head but it seemed likely. Caspian sometimes spoke of his people without even realizing it. And that he had learned everything from them before being killed by Khaniel’s army only a few moons before the final battle of Cam’tar. Of that neither of them ever spoke, it was a memory best left forgotten.

But Caspian was now one of them and they would not kill each other. The four of them rode together like brothers, brothers in all but birth, brining terror and death to all corners of the world they knew. Their brother hood lasted for nearly a thousand years and it was with regret that Methos broke them apart in the end.

Present Day

Zoll was working her way through her e-mails with annoyance. The first one had been from Dawson informing her that he had asked Methos about the beginnings of the Horsemen and the old Immortal simply refusing to answer the question.

She was not surprised. What else was there to expect from a man like him? Murdering bastard that he was?

But how else to figure it out? There had been Watcher around back then, but most were not anywhere near where the Horsemen had been raiding. And those few that ran across them never made it back.

And if Dawson couldn’t get him to talk, no one could. For some reason Methos had a soft spot for him. And Zoll was not above using that connection to further her work.

Her annoyance lessened somewhat when she came to the mail from Soraya Hamid. She was a Watcher working in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Not in the field but in a museum. It had been a stroke of luck that she had gotten the job there. Normally women didn’t work without their guardians consent, but she had the British citizenship and was a widow, that gave her some leeway.

Hamid informed Amy that several old scrolls had been found and brought to the museum for preservation and translation. And though Soraya didn’t have direct access, she had heard some interesting things from the water cooler gossip. It might be worth investigating.

Right now Amy was willing to take anything to not have to think about Methos and his bloody Chronicles. Never mind that she would have killed anyone how tried to take them away from her.

“You will not believe what these scrolls contain.” Soraya called her excited a few weeks later.

“I’m sure you’ll enlighten me momentarily.” Amy replied. She was sorting through a stack of possible Methos entries. Damn the man for being such a chameleon. There must be dozens, if not hundreds, of mentions of him in the Chronicles without anyone every making the connection.

“But just because you ask so nicely.” Soraya told her. “It’s the recounting of an attack on a town that used to be in the area they were found. An attack led by four men on horses that could not die.”

“Come again.” Amy breathed.

“An eyewitness account of a Horsemen attack, nearly 3.500 years old. I know the details, yet, but it seemed they had an army at their back and call too.” Soraya explained excited.

“Cassandra never mentioned an army. Are you sure it’s authentic?” Amy wanted to know.

“Is the pope catholic? Or is that insulting?” Soraya asked with a chuckle.

“I’m Anglican, I don’t care about the pope.” Amy said dismissively. “I need a copy of those scrolls. Can you get them?”

“Sorry, no.” Soraya told her. “You’ll have to go through the Tribunal for that. They should be able to get them, if they grease the right hands.”

Amy sighed. She was no fan of bribing anyone, but that was what the Tribunal was for, making the work of the Watchers possible in the first place. “Guess that’s what I’ll be doing then. Thanks for the heads up, Soraya. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

She tried to keep it quiet, but of course the rumor mill was not to be denied. Before the week was out everyone at the Watcher HQ was buzzing with the news of the new sensational find. At least no one knew who Methos really was and how he featured into this. It was a miracle that the Tribunal had been able to keep that one under wraps. Adam Pierson still ran as a new Immoral, student of MacLedo. One of the lucky ones that didn’t fall to the Highlanders ridiculously moral standards.

But she did get a set of excellent digital photos of the scrolls. She would have preferred the originals but she wasn’t interested in visiting Saudi Arabia. A s a woman she wouldn’t even be allowed to drive a car herself there.

“So those are the mysterious scrolls.” Dawson said from the doorway. Zoll hadn’t even heard him enter and it wasn’t like he could walk quietly.

“Yes, they are. And I thought you were in Rome again. And don’t tell Methos we have them until I have them fully translated.” Amy instructed.

“Why not?” Joe wanted to know. “He’s going to find out about them anyway. Maybe if I bring it up I can get him into a chatty mood. And I’ m heading back to Rome in a few hours.”

“And maybe you don’t.” Amy replied. “I don’t want to take the risk. He might just decide to steal them. And the originals. I’ll tell you when you can inform him.”

“You really don’t like that little deal, do you?” Joe asked with a sad smile.

Zoll sighed. “It’s against our oath. And he sneaked his way in. Probably not for the first time.” It was an old argument. One she wasn’t going to win anytime soon. Now that Methos had been identified the Tribunal was willing to go a long way to keep him in their sights.

Rome, Italy, Two days later

Joe was contemplating whether or not to ignore Amy’s order and ask Methos about those scrolls when the Immortal in question strolled in, sprawling in a chair.

“You’re late.” Joe stated.

“Says who?” Methos wanted to know. “Can I have a coffee?”

“Something the matter?” Joe wanted to know.

“No.” Methos said not very convincingly. “ How’s Zoll doing with the scrolls?”

Joe winced, so much for secrecy. “Know about that, do you?”

“Propaganda, Joe, don’t take it too seriously.” Methos advised.

“Zoll thinks it’s an eyewitness account.” Joe stated. “Of you guys.”

“Good for her but we didn’t leave literate eyewitnesses.” Methos replied calmly.

“So what? It’s a fake?” Joe asked.

Methos shrugged unconcerned. “That or it refers to another group of horsemen. No shortage of raiders back in the day.”

Joe raised his eyebrows skeptical. “Another group of horsemen.”

“What? You seriously think we were the only ones?” Methos chuckled. “We were a dime a dozen. We were just around the longest, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but those horsemen couldn’t die and had an army.” Joe pointed out.

“Then it wasn’t us. We never had an army. A few mortals for support at the beginning before Kronos and I hooked up with the others.” Methos explained. “I guess it was another group of horsemen that had at least one Immortal with them. Wouldn’t have been that uncommon back then.”

Joe chuckled. “Sounds plausible. But I don’t think Dr. Zoll is going to believe any of it.”

“Yes, and that crushes me, really.” Methos deadpanned.

“You told him!” Zoll shouted when Joe reported in. “How could you? I explicitly told you to not to tell him anything.”

“He already knew about the scrolls.” Joe calmly replied. Good thing there were several hundred miles between them or he feared she would throw something at him. Zoll wasn’t a violent person but she really was pissed off. Methos always did that to her. Maybe having her as head of the Methos Chronicles hadn’t been such a hot idea.

“What? How?” Amy demanded to know.

“I don’t know, he didn’t elaborate.” Joe said. “But I guess he still had contacts. Or he hacked us again.”

“Oh no, I’ve kept them strictly offline.” Amy informed him.

“But people talk and someone else might have put something in the database.” Joe reminded her.

“Whatever.” Amy dismissed the topic. “I’m still convinced the scrolls are about Methos and his merry gang of murderers.”

Joe sighed. “Maybe they are, I can only tell you what he told me. Guess we’ll see when you’re done with them, hopefully.”

“Yes, I guess we’ll see.”

Methos in the meantime had acquired his own set of copies. He had told Joe the truth, the scrolls weren’t about his brothers and him. At least he was pretty sure they weren’t. His memories were pretty good, but it after a while the raids had started to blur all together. And it was always possible that they overlooked a survivor or two. And if they had told their story to a scribe, those would probably have embellished the whole thing for drama. Methos didn’t blame them if that was the case, having your entire world burned down around you was very traumatic. Though he still didn’t believe it was about them.

Well, he would see soon enough. Shouldn’t take more than a day or so. He hadn’t read that language in a very long time, he was a bit rusty, he had to admit.

“Here, tell Zoll to have a good time.” Methos said and put the printouts in front of Joe at his place.

The old Watcher leaved through them, reading a paragraph here and there.” Really not you guyes then, or I wouldn’t be seeing this, right?”

Methos snatched himself a beer from the refrigerator. “No, but I’m pretty sure we wiped those guys out at some point. They were intruding on our turf, so to speak.”

“You guys had a territory you stuck too?” Joe asked skeptical.

“More or less, the entire world was ours.” Methos told him and sat down opposite Joe. “Those morons had raided a town Kronos had had his eyes on and he really didn’t like being deprived of his price.”

Joe shook his head. “I’ll pass it on.”

Amy Zoll was fuming. How dare that bastard send her a translation? It would be easier to hear if it was just some bullshit but it was the same as the one she and her team had just finished. The scrolls were about horsemen but not about The Horsemen. It was so frustrating, she had wanted it to be the real deal so much.

She should be glad about the few tidbits Dawson had been able to get out of Methos, she guessed, but damn it, it would have been such a find.

“Dr. Zoll? Do you have a moment?” a voice said from the doorway.

“Of course, Director Coburg.” She hurriedly assured the current head of the Watcher Tribunal.

The director smiled and took a seat in the one other chair in the office. “I won’t take up much of your time, I just wanted to forewarn you.”

“About what?” Amy wanted to know. If a member of the Tribunal, the head, no less, show up to forewarn you, it could never be good.

“Relocating you and your team, to Rome.” Coburg said.

“What?” Was all Amy could get out.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Coburg asked. “Methos is settled in there for the long haul, has been for four years before he hooked up with his girlfriend in Paris. Now that she’s out of the picture, he’s back in Rome and Dawson told us he’s planning to stay there a good long while. It’s not fully decided yet.”

Amy listened to the older Watcher justifying this…plan but she didn’t agree. “That’s why we’re in the process of settling Dawson in Rome. My team doesn’t need to be there. We are set up quite well here in Paris. Besides, one accident, one mishap and he has to relocate again. Are we to move with every time?”

Coburg shrugged. “Well, I thought you’d say that and I can agree with it to a certain point but the rest of the Tribunal thinks it’s for the best. But don’t worry, even if they make decision to relocate you, it won’t happen overnight. After all we will have to move tons of books too.”

They, right, Amy thought. She knew Coburg was the driving force behind his and that the decision was as good as made already. Coburg had always been fascinated by the really old Immortals, especially Methos.

“Yes, quite a few.” Amy forced herself to say. They lived in the 21st century, they didn’t need to relocate one piece of paper nowadays, but some Watchers were old-fashioned. “When can I expect the final word?”

“Oh, in a couple of months, three tops. You know how it works.” Coburg stood up and headed for the door. “And they want to add another member to your team, just to make sure you have enough manpower.”

With that Coburg left and Amy sat behind her desk fuming. Another Watcher, appointed directly by the Tribunal? So far she had been allowed to handpick them herself, except for Dawson, and now they chose another one? That didn’t bode well, and Amy would not simply accept it. And neither would she just roll over and let them move her entire department. She had friends too, the last word on this hadn’t been spoke yet.

End


End file.
